Vice Admiral Chrono Harlaown stared at himself in the mirror, taking in the neat lines of his uniform, the blue jacket of a naval flag officer, the fancy gold epaulets, the razor-sharp creases in his white trousers. Tall and handsome, he at least looked the part of an admiral. The gray hairs shot through his temples even lent him a certain gravitas.
Frankly, he probably needed it. Chrono had inherited his youthful features from his mother, and even at thirty-eight he still could be mistaken for someone twenty years his junior at first glance. The combination of youth and high rank wasn’t unknown in the Time-Space Administration Bureau, but it tended to walk hand-in-hand with being a powerful combat mage, a prodigy who’d entered the service young and who’d therefore had the time to build experience and earn promotion well ahead of the curve.
Chrono actually was such a prodigy; at age fourteen he’d held a mage ranking of AAA+ and served in the Navy’s Enforcement Bureau, its elite investigative agents sent in pursuit of Lost Logia and wide-area dimensional criminals. That wasn’t the man he wanted to be today, though. He didn’t want to appear as the boy wonder, but as an experienced leader, a command officer with over a decade in his present position. He needed respect for the man, not the mage.
“Chrono, honey, is everything all right?”
He turned to his wife Amy and offered her a small smile.
“Just thinking that if I hadn’t done all the things that earned me these gray hairs, then I wouldn’t be needing them today.”
“Chrono, don’t worry. I’m sure that the subcommittee hearing will be all right. You’ve never had any problems with them before.”
The smile vanished.
“I’ve never been in a position quite like this before,” he said. “This isn’t just one of the usual meetings. It’s an actual investigative hearing carried out under the authority of the Oversight Subcommittee’s powers. I could be censured or demoted, possibly even brought up on charges if they believe there’s cause.”
“They wouldn’t dare!” Amy declared. “After everything you’ve done for the TSAB, all the sacrifices you’ve had to make—“
“I think that some people would describe it as everything I’ve done to the TSAB. Sacrifices that shouldn’t have been made. Pyrrhic victories that cost more than they gained.” He sighed. “It’s not really myself that I’m worried about, though. They could clean house, shut us down completely. And then what happens to everyone? The mages like Lutecia and Cinque and the elite staff will likely find something; talent always will out. But what about the clerks, the field agents, the staff who can’t wave around a high rank or a Rare Skill? They’ll always be tarred by the same brush. Presuming,” he added ruefully, “that it doesn’t just end in a mass court-martial.”
“I think you’re being excessively pessimistic. I know that Hayate is on your side.”
“True, and that will help. But remember, she’s only the military’s advisor to the Oversight Subcommittee. She can recommend and analyze, and her voice carries a fair amount of weight, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t get a vote.”
Now, Amy did frown. The advantage of years of marriage was, it had taught her when her congenitally too-serious husband was being overly pessimistic about something and needed her support to see clearly, and when his pessimism was based on a rational assessment of the facts as he knew them. It was increasingly evident to her that this fell into the latter category.
“I see,” she mused. “Shall I contact your mother, then?”
“About what?”
“If the risks are as serious as you say, then you’re going to have to swing the subcommittee members to your side. That means figuring out what makes them tick, what they want and where they can be leveraged to your advantage.”
“I have,” he said, not without irony, “fairly complete dossiers on all of the Oversight Subcommittee members.”
“But are they better than Lindy’s?”
She had a point.
“You’re right. Go ahead and ask her, please.”
Amy’s eyebrows rose.
“I’m surprised. Not even a token resistance to the idea of a naval flag officer asking for his mother’s help?”
At that, Chrono managed his first genuine smile of the morning.
“Isn’t the pragmatic willingness to do what is necessary, no matter how distasteful, the entire purpose for my department’s existence? I don’t want to be a hypocrite about it, at least.”
“That’s good. If you can keep a sense of humor about it all, I’m sure things will be fine.”
She reached out and took one of his hands between hers.
“I don’t really think this is a joking matter, Amy.”
“Of course not. But if you’re relaxed and at ease, then you’ll be able to apply your full faculties to the problem, and there’s no one I know who can beat my Chrono in a battle of wits. So I know that you’ll kick butt and take names.”
Amy was not only an admiral’s wife, but she’d been a junior officer herself, so she didn’t hug Chrono and crush his immaculate uniform, but she squeezed his hand between hers, then leaned up to kiss him on the lips.
“Good luck, honey.”
“Thanks, Amy. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Despite her confidence, Chrono wasn’t so sanguine about his prospects. As his driver piloted the staff car from his home through the streets of Cranagan to the central headquarters of the Time-Space Administration Bureau High Council, he called up the morning news reports on his Device. Efficient as always, his aide Janice Toronado had already flagged the ones she felt were the most relevant in both broadcast and writing.
The good news was, it wasn’t front-page, top-of-the-cycle material. Committee hearings, even scandalous ones, were dry stuff for the most part, and these would be happening behind closed doors rather than in open Council due to the amount of classified material that was likely to be discussed. Still, the original scandal had been front-page news when it first broke a month ago, and that kept the follow-up going strong, particularly in the editorial community.
It all just made things more complicated. In addition to the very real debates on the issues which would be dredged up, there was also the potential for the individual politicians to get carried away by their personal agendas, and boxed into a corner by the need to appeal to public opinion.
Potential, ha. More like inevitability. And all a perfect example of why we exist in the first place.
Unfortunately, there was really no one to blame but themselves, Chrono very much included, for the situation they found themselves in now. They’d been the ones to fail, and failure carried consequences.
He only hoped that he could mitigate the damage.
The High Council building, the center of the government that oversaw the administration of dozens of worlds and kept track of developments on dozens more, was a low, sprawling complex. In contrast to the spire of the Ground Forces headquarters, surrounded by support towers, no part of the Council building was over five stories tall. Chrono figured it was meant to be a statement, though he’d never been sure exactly of what. Humility had never really characterized anyone associated with the Council that he’d ever met.
The car passed through two checkpoints before it stopped and the driver let Chrono out onto the walkway. The guards at the door saluted, as had those at the security checkpoints, but it didn’t stop them from verifying the Admiral’s identification, running the usual scans, and requiring him to surrender his Device. It was annoying, but policy was policy: only serving security (either for the building or individual bodyguards) could carry a Device or other weapon inside Council HQ. He placed S2U Neo’s card form into the security container, which was then sealed and coded for storage. He accepted the receipt and continued on.
“Ah! Admiral Harlaown!”
Chrono looked to his left and saw the slim form of Toronado pattering towards him.
“Janice.”
“We’re going to be in audience room C.” Using her communications unit, she called up a screen in the air in front of her while they walked. Her mint-green ponytail bobbed with each step. “They’re scheduled to question you today; they won’t be calling any witnesses just yet.” She squinted up at him nervously. “Are you absolutely certain that you don’t want an attorney to advise you, sir?”
Chono shook his head.
“The instant I walk in with legal representation it renders this hearing an adversarial proceeding. The posture I’m taking is that this isn’t a trial or court-martial, but an opportunity for responsible adults to discuss a situation.”
Toronado’s lips drew into a narrow line.
“With all due respect, sir, that doesn’t change what’s really going on here. I gravely doubt the subcommittee members are in any mood to be reasonable or adult.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
They fell silent as they reached the elevator, since there were several other people waiting already. They rode up to the fifth floor, the elevator stopping at every intermediate level to let people on or off. Only when they were walking down the hall did Toronado speak up again.
“Sir, I’m afraid that I really don’t understand.”
“If I meet their accusations with obfuscation, with denials, with hiding behind legal privilege, then it just gives them ammunition. It’s the sort of behavior that characterizes us, to them, as a dangerous threat. The Oversight Subcommittee has always taken a closer-than-normal look at our actions specifically because of the secrecy under which we operate. Their attitude is that they’re trying to resolve a political crisis. If I start hiding behind legal privilege, then it looks like we’re admitting fault. I want to present our position as working with them to resolve a problem, not as accused defendants trying to escape blame. It’s the only way to win over the swing voters.”
“You’re presuming that there are such things as swing voters.”
“If there aren’t, then I’m not going to give the members any more ammunition. This hearing isn’t public, but it’s part of the Council record, and the subcommittee members will have to be able to justify whatever they do in order to stand up to political scrutiny.”
Toronado’s eyes lit up as the implications sank in.
“So in a way, you’re really playing this hearing for the entire Council.”
“Correct. I’m actually a qualified advocate, in any case, and while I’m aware of the old Earth saw that a lawyer representing himself has a fool for a client, that knowledge should keep me from blundering into the more obvious traps while maintaining the appearance of cooperation.”
He had no idea whether or not it would be enough.
They arrived at the foyer to Audience Room C, identified themselves, and were shown into one of the waiting rooms where witnesses would be stashed until they were ready. It made for something of an interesting and perhaps ironic situation that even though he was functionally in the position of a defendant, with his actions and his entire department on the line, Chrono was technically just a “witness,” testifying to the subcommittee to provide facts by which they could make their decision.
Politics, he thought with a scornful snort.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t all politics. The scandal, the crisis that had prompted these hearings was very real and struck squarely at the heart of what the service represented.
Mistakes had been made. Some of them, almost certainly, by Chrono himself, errors in judgment that nearly lead to disaster. And beyond that, just as ultimately everything that happens on board a ship is the responsibility of the captain, there was no getting around the fact that he’d been the man in charge when everything had jumped into a handbasket and headed south. If he’d been exercising the proper oversight, then the subcommittee wouldn’t have had the opportunity, the leverage to exercise their political agendas.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, but something to keep in mind when dealing with the councilors. It did no good to get angry at someone when you yourself handed them the weapons they were using against you.
The hearing was scheduled to begin at ten in the morning, but it was twenty past when the door opened and one of the Council pages entered.
“Admiral Harlaown, they’re ready for you.”
He rose from his chair. The twenty minutes was a bad sign. Either something had come up at the last minute that they hadn’t been able to discuss among themselves on their own time, or else they’d been keeping him waiting as a show of power. Either meant trouble, last-second information he hadn’t planned for or an attitude of petty vindictiveness that was sure to hurt his chances.
Seeing the faces of the Council members, he had a sinking feeling that it was the latter.
The audience room was a large hemisphere, not unlike a university lecture hall. The back was flat, with a long bench that could seat up to nine people, although only six seats were filled today. Before it were tables for witnesses and other parties, while the ampitheater-like seats could allow for up to several hundred spectators or members of the press.
Those seats were empty today, though. This was a closed hearing, owing to the amount of classified information that might be aired. Chrono and Toronado’s steps echoed off the floor, magnified by the room’s excellent acoustics. The admiral glanced at the Time-Space Administration Bureau’s shield on the wall behind the seated Council members. He was the son of two career officers, his father had given his life in service, and he himself had enlisted as a child owing to his status as a magical prodigy.
In this way, this hearing was going to be a referendum on his entire life.
“Admiral Chrono Harlaown?” asked the woman sitting in the center seat behind the bench. She was tall, slender, and elderly, with high cheekbones, a long, hooked nose, and flame-red hair heavily shot through with steel. Allison Nash, the chair of the Intelligence Oversight Subcommittee, was the senior member for Administrated World 38, Marlais, a frozen iceball on the fringes of the known sectors of the Dimensional Sea. Her position on the committee spoke to her political savvy, given the utter irrelevance of her constituency.
“I am.”
“Bailiff?”
Another uniformed staffer came forward from the side. This one was a mage, the head of the in-chamber security detail, carrying a staff Device.
“Admiral, please raise your right hand,” the man instructed. Chrono complied. “Do you affirm that the testimony you are about to give is the complete and unadulterated truth, given freely and of your own accord?”
“I do.”
“You may be seated,” Nash invited, and Chrono and Toronado sat down at one of the tables.
“Admiral Harlaown, I am required to inform you that this is a formal hearing under the authority of the Time-Space Administration Bureau Governing Council and is being recorded as part of the formal record of that body. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nash inclined her head once.
“Then, as the formalities are complete, we can begin.”
She glanced to her left. Member Oliver Grumman was short, but burly, with thinning blue hair and a bushy moustache that seemed to aggressively offset the lack of hair on his head. He was from AW 4, Millias, one of Midchilda’s oldest trading partners, and his expensive clothing reflected his family’s wealth.
“The subcommittee is familiar with your service record, Admiral. Cadet at age eight, passed the Enforcer qualification exam at age twelve, an exemplary career matched by rapid promotion at every turn. In MC0073, however, you were promoted to Rear Admiral and simultaneously came with this subcommittee’s sphere of influence by being named the Director of the Naval Special Intelligence Service. That was fifteen years ago, so I’m quite certain that everyone here is familiar with the situation, but given the…shall we say unique? Yes, unique circumstances of this agency, please describe the NSIS for the record.”
So that’s how they’re going to play it.
“As the Member says, you’re all well aware of the NSIS, but,” he added with a smile, “we’re all servants of formality here, aren’t we? The Naval Special Intelligence Service was founded by directive of the Council president in 0038, to serve as a covert intelligence-gathering and field operations unit. It maintains a command staff, a number of bases and safe houses, a number of support facilities, and at this point four hundred and ninety-three field agents. Its field of operations exists throughout all of Dimensional Space, including both Administered and Unadministered Worlds.”
“And what is the goal of this agency?”
“To protect the peace and well-being of the people subject to the TSAB’s governance, by identifying and investigating possible threats and, when deemed appropriate, taking steps to remove those threats.”
“Let us not beat around the bush, Admiral Harlaown,” said the Member to Chrono’s far right. Milton Challenger looked the part of a leader, being tall, square-jawed, and gray-haired, his clothes neat but unostentatious. He was Midchildan, known to be a close political ally of Mayor Magnus of Cranagan, so had his fingers in many political pies in the capital city. “Tell us what you mean by ‘remove.’”
“It could mean a variety of things, depending on the circumstances of each case. If possible, evidence can be turned over to the Enforcement Bureau or other legal authorities. If not, more direct action can be taken. Pressure might be brought to bear, directly or indirectly. Weapons or installations may be destroyed. Or if necessary, termination.”
“Assassination,” Nash interjected. “Let us be plain-spoken here. You’re talking about theft, blackmail, sabotage, and murder, carried out without any trial or other legal due process, only the determination of your agency.”
“Yes.”
“And who makes this determination, Admiral?”
“Field agents operate within the bounds set out and defined by their supervisors, who in turn report to the operations directorate, and ultimately to me, as Director.”
“I see.”
Chrono could have waited for the next question, but with Nash seemingly on the attack he felt it was time to counterpunch.
“I would like to contest one implication, if I may. It is true that NSIS field operations are conducted without due process for those individuals directly affected—no warrant is obtained before eavesdropping on a subject’s communications and no trial necessary before executing a terrorist. However, those actions are not taken without legal authority. The NSIS is a lawfully created intelligence agency and its actions are sanctioned by the terms of its creation under Bureau law.”
“And it is that sanction which we are here to consider today. Specifically, the question of whether the NSIS shall remain in existence, and if so, what changes may be necessary to correct what appear to be systemic flaws in its operation.”
“Ms. Nash, if I may interject, I’m not sure at all that ‘systemic flaws’ do exist.”
It was the sixth member of the panel who’d spoken up. Seated at the far left, Hayate Yagami was the only one who was not a member of the subcommittee, serving only in an advisory capacity. Her actual positions, shown by the blue jacket and white slacks of her formal uniform, were Lieutenant General of the TSAB Ground Forces and Commander of the Capital City Defense Forces. Even in her thirties, she still had the same pixie face she’d had as a teenager, though she’d let her brown hair grow out a bit from its bob cut.
Hayate was also a childhood friend of Chrono’s sister, and they’d worked closely for years. Everyone on the panel was well aware of that relationship, which no doubt led at least some of them to suspect that she was expressly on his side.
Which she was, just not in the way they meant it. Hayate cared a lot for Chrono, but it was the person she tried to protect, not the admiral, and definitely not the NSIS.
“General Yagami, the Hayes Incident certainly indicates—“
“The way the JS Incident did for the Council and the Ground Forces?”
Nash winced.
“I’m just saying,” Hayate continued, “that we should keep an open mind. Part of what we’re here to examine is if the Hayes Incident can be attributed to individual wrongdoing, or if there are deeper flaws in the NSIS’s command structure, internal procedures, or field of operations that gave rise to it.”
“Sophistry,” Grumman huffed.
“But important nonetheless,” interjected the Member seated between Nash and Challenger. Victoria Northrop was scarcely older than Chrono, the daughter of a wealthy family-held industrial empire on Vaizen. Her long blue hair was worn in a simple braid pulled forward across her right shoulder, the color matching the patterning in her white dress. She offered Chrono a smile. “Therefore, Admiral, let us get to the heart of the matter. The Bureau is a political organization. This often leads to a duplication of effort or unnecessary divisions. The Navy’s Enforcement Bureau and the Ground Forces’ Special Investigations Bureau, for example, perform much the same tasks within their respective spheres of influence. Likewise, the Intelligence Oversight Subcommittee supervises seven separate agencies or departments whose activities can in one way or another be characterized as ‘espionage’ or ‘intelligence-gathering.’ However, your service has always been of special interest to us, and the reason for that is clear.”
“Because we don’t exist,” Chrono said.
“And what do you mean by that?” It was a request to elaborate for the record, not a genuine question, and he treated it that way.
“The actual existence of the NSIS is an SS-classified secret. Of the Council, only the President, the Vice-President, the Treasurer, and the members of the Intelligence Oversight Subcommittee are permitted to know of the NSIS’s existence and operations. Of the TSAB military, only the commanders of each service branch and the Head Librarian of the Infinity Library, as well as the director of the Enforcement Bureau receive this information. Otherwise, knowledge of the NSIS’s existence is shared only on a need-to-know basis, when operational circumstances dictate.”
That latter group, Chrono thought ruefully, had grown to include virtually his entire extended family.
“Our operations are likewise classified. When we deliver information to other TSAB branches, it is through disguised channels. The Council Treasurer provides funding for us on a black-budget basis, through false earmarks and slush funds. Our personnel are, on generally accessible official records, considered to be TSAB Navy or civilian contractors, with no mention of their actual affiliation in their service jackets. As I said, we do not exist.”
“I see. No doubt this causes a good deal of trouble for the NSIS, maintaining that level of secrecy while carrying out operations.”
“It does.”
“So why do it?”
“Because the activities and operations of the NSIS often cross into areas where the Bureau as a whole would find it uncomfortable to go, even by the other intelligence sections. There are those who would consider our actions to be morally repugnant. Moreover, it gives us greater autonomy. The checks and balances that inhibit the activities of other agencies and departments do not interfere with us.”
“In short,” Grumman said, “your secrecy permits you to act without restraint, in violation of not merely the laws, but the fundamental morality under which the TSAB operates.”
“On the contrary, I believe that our existence—our secrecy—is part of what allows the TSAB to operate under that morality at all.”
More than one head snapped up at that, more than one spine becoming rigid, at attention. Thus far, they’d only been going over old ground, reciting facts that all of them knew well for the purpose of putting them onto the record and making the opening moves, setting the stage in the political game that was this hearing. This was something different, though. Even Hayate gave Chrono a curious look.
The audience room was baffled against telepathy by a jamming field effect, but Chrono sent a glance towards her that was filled with his plea, Just let me run with this.
“The Bureau was formed in the wake of the Saint King Unification Wars that ended the Belkan empire,” he continued quickly. “Olivie Sedgbrecht, the last of the Sankt Kaisers, shattered the warring powers of the Belkan States, including her own, so that upon her death there was a power vacuum and the violent lineages of the Warring States had no base from which to fill it. This gave the opportunity for the founders of the Council on the political side, the Three Admirals in the field, and the Belkan Saint Church providing cultural and spiritual support to lay the groundwork for the Bureau’s founding, as a confederation whose primary purpose is to insure the peace of Dimensional Space. Where the Belkan noble lineages had glamorized warfare as the pinnacle of nobility, the Bureau was founded under the principle that force, violent methods, are acceptable only as a last resort, as a response to violence initiated by anarchic forces that threaten peace for their own selfish ends, be it a criminal committing a robbery, a terrorist group fighting to impose its ideology, or a rogue nation attempting to seize territory.”
“Yes, yes, Admiral. I think that all of us here are familiar with elementary grade-school history,” Nash said. “If you have a point, please come to it.”
“I’m getting there, Madam Chair. Our military is trained in disaster relief, emergency support. Our elite units are, more often than not, child prodigies who are presented with a psychological model of a hero fighting evil. Partly that’s in order to make the reality of fighting, of risking their life palatable to their minds so that they don’t break, but it also generally pervades the culture of the military, particularly the Navy, where mages are most concentrated. They absorb that culture in training, grow, pass it on, and perpetuate it so that the model becomes reality. Consider the standard tactical deployment of a mage fireteam, where the unit members’ roles are defined by names better suited to a sports team: ‘guard wing,’ ‘fullback,’ and so on.”
His gaze swept across the gathered Members. Chrono wondered which of them were following his argument (presumably all; these were not idiots), how many had already preceded the train of thoughts, and who might agree or disagree.
“At various points in history, the use of spies in wartime has been deemed a dishonorable act. The nobility of Belka, centered on knightly honor, disliked stealth and ambush as demeaning to a warrior. The modern TSAB scorns spies as well, but in a different way. They reject them in the same way that a child’s entertainment broadcast ridicules a liar or a back-shooter.
“That is the force to which we entrust the defense of our society. I have served alongside these men and women in battle, and there is no finer group of warriors nor stronger people of character. They will give their lives, if need be, but more than that will give all that makes up their lives to stand against hostile invaders, rogue Lost Logia, and whatever also threatens peace, harmony, and welfare.
“They are also the last people I would trust to find those threats before they become manifest.”
“And you consider that you, yourself, are that person?” Northrop asked.
“I don’t know,” Chrono said. “But I do know that we of the NSIS are better-suited to do it than the heroic mages of the Navy and Air Force.”
“But why secretly, Admiral? Why not openly, like, say, the Inter-Dimensional Security Administration?” Hayate gave him the opening. They’d had this conversation before, after all, how many times over the years?
“The Council created the NSIS because it realized that the ends sometimes justify the means. It made us secret so that we would have the freedom to use those means. You know what the nickname is for an NSIS field agent: a Shadow. Their work always remains hidden, concealed by darkness.
“Of course, no government division can be simply allowed to do whatever it wants, regardless of law or morality. That’s why the NSIS is subject to oversight by this subcommittee, to make sure that the question of which ends can be served by which means can be weighed in the balance and those who cross a line be held accountable…as it happening today.
“But the Bureau as a whole? They don’t even begin to approach that question. For them, the end never justifies the means. They would never get their hands dirty. And because of it, people would die. People who would have lived if someone had been willing to cross a line, to do, in short, what we do.”
He went down the row, locking gazes for a moment with each of the five Members in turn.
“We exist in secret, in shadow, because the Bureau would not accept it otherwise. The Council was wise enough, when it founded us, to realize that a civilized society that espouses the principles the Bureau does, principles that it has adopted for the sake of our relatively fledgling’s institution’s survival, cannot tolerate having those who do what we do stand alongside them. And yet, that is exactly why we have to exist. And so our existence itself remains classified.”
We remain in shadow, so that you may walk in light. It was a motto his mentor, Admiral Graham had once taught him. Of course, Graham was a textbook example of what could go wrong with that kind of thinking as well. His plan to stop the Book of Darkness had been a classic example of getting so caught up in the underhanded approach that it ended up just getting in the way of a more effective open and direct solution.
The biggest danger to someone who believed that the ends justified the means, Chrono thought, was not to lose track of what scales of ends and means matched. It was the risk of getting so locked in to using the underhanded tactic that they forgot some problems were better solved by means that did not have to be justified.
I should have seen the signs, he told himself. I should have realized what was happening to Hayes before it all went wrong.
As if she was reading the direction of his thoughts, when Nash responded she was focused on Hayes as well.
“That was a passionate speech, Admiral, and an intriguing justification for your classified status. However, for the purpose of this hearing, it is quite beyond the point.”
“The Hayes Incident,” he responded.
“Correct. The Hayes Incident. When the Deputy Director of your own agency went rogue, supported by your highest-ranked field agent and a number of support staff and other personnel, and attempted to use an Al-Hazredic Lost Logia and facility to empower a private army of mages, with which he apparently intended to stage a coup. An affair which, although thankfully taking place out of the public eye, nonetheless ended up coming to the attention in numerous ways of multiple divisions of the TSAB military and this Council.
“In short, Admiral Harlaown, regardless of the Council’s wisdom in creating the Naval Special Intelligence Service as a secret agency, the cat is now out of the bag, made so by the outright treason of several of your most senior subordinates. This hearing, therefore, leaves us with the question of just what do you intend to do about it?”
